Fighting Fire With Fire
by LadyPorpoise
Summary: Feanor has always been known as the greatest elf in the world...But would it surprise anyone to know what else could bring him to his knees other than a Balrog or few? How does one fight the spirit of fire? With fire of course! Except, not in the way one would think. Spices, rare spices, and a young child that wanted to please his father with things being more red.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here...I just "harmlessly" torture them._

* * *

Idleness? Never. Never is idle a thing in this house. Fëanáro could never fully escape the things of Tirion, what with "family reunions" and the like. That stuff actually are the last things of concern on his to-do-list. Nerdanel knew very well how much her spouse hated the gatherings. But, as crown prince (and the favored son of Finwë), plus having too many children that lacked suitable playmates…Uh, yes. That was a bit of a problem.

And how does one fix that problem? Well, swallowing down family disputes, getting the children, and hauling them to the palace. Their eldest and second eldest at least helped monitor the two younger sons. And with their cousins…well, that will either turn to chaos, or to some organized chaos. At least Fëanáro and Nerdanel could get some reprieve from that chore, but that meant smoldering coals in the spirit of fire when facing with the _half_ -brothers. Nolofinwë bided his time, ignoring the daggers that were shot at him from time to time, while their younger sibling, Arafinwë (who would be considered an adolescent by reckoning of the Atani), did the exact same thing, although may hide behind someone much taller than he.

Colors. In Aman, there are going to be colors. Splendorous colors for that note. Fëanáro's house mostly in reds and golds, Nolofinwë replaced the red with blue, and Arafinwë replaced that with white. Finwë and Indis…overly dressed peacocks. Literally. Every color imaginable. As for everyone else, well, one could guess easily. Just look at where they live.

Food. Exotic: check. Tasty: check. Stuff ready: done. Children off doing who knows what: done.

Fëanáro kept to himself, as per normal when visiting. Nerdanel sadly was the one who talked most about the happenings going on. Dinner progressed, and the sweets were served. Culinary was an art, especially when it comes to the cakes and all those nice things.

Everything was going very well, which surprised the pompous son of Finwë. Not being bothered perpetually, no need to say anything to his siblings, or Indis for that note…he was actually beginning to consider remaining here a bit longer.

But, luck normally tends to go askew, right? One thinks everything is well and continues to believe that, and then: they jinx it.

Fëanáro ate a small bit of cake, and felt an odd crunch as his teeth bore down into it. Odd. Perhaps a clump of flour or sugar. No matter, it was not properly mixed. It had to be precise! It is in the king's palace for Valar's sake! Who would in their right mind…

"Fëanáro?"

Aforementioned Noldo shot up to see who addressed him. It was his father, and immediately he put on one of his special looks: ones only reserved for Finwë. He said nothing, but he noticed Finwë seemed a little bit concerned.

"Are you well, my son? You seem rather…flushed."

"I…beg pardon?" Fëanáro for once stuttered. What was he talking about? It must be the weight of his robes…

"The king is right." Nerdanel began slowly, "Your…face is turning red."

Fëanáro heard a failed attempt of holding back a chortle from Arafinwë, and immediately the crown prince shot a famous glare in that direction. Now he did feel slightly warmer than what is normal…even his mouth and throat burned a little bit. Stars, what is happening? Fëanáro could not help but feel his heart slightly begin to pound a little harder.

Controlled as he was (except he could not prevent the perspiration beginning to form on his forehead and beneath his eyes), he tried to assuage this newfound fear, "It must be warm in here…rest assured I am-HIC!"

Nolofinwë about choked hearing the sound and began coughing; his wife pounded on his back. Fëanáro clamped a hand over his mouth, and Arafinwë began to giggle again, while most everyone else just stared with uncertainty, or trying not to laugh.

"Fëanáro?" Finwë asked again, now half risen out of his seat.

"I-" Fëanáro again let out that obnoxious noise. Not only was his face warm and sweaty from whatever it was that caused it, now shame and humiliation was adding to the mix. Horror was even showing in his eyes. This cannot be happening!

Finwë looked about the hall with confusion and mild apprehension. Why was this only happening to Fëanáro? Everyone else seemed fine, so it was nothing that meant a danger to the royal family. Physically at least.

"Melmë." Nerdanel stood fully from her seat.

Fëanáro waved whatever she was going to say next away, still making the strange noises. With more frequency one might add. Stumbling to stand and get the void away from here, "E-" Hic. "Exc…" Hic. "Excuse…" Hic. "Me!" Finally! Without even seeing if he was dismissed he fled with as much grace he could achieve, now on a quest to save wounded pride.

* * *

Later, the fits still happened. Stripped down to only his lightest clothing, Fëanáro was sprawled on his bed, probably having swallowed two gallons of water in order for the burning to stop, but it still persisted. Nerdanel and Indis were picking up discarded (and slightly moist) robes from the floor.

"And this was supposed to be a pleasant meeting…" The queen murmured to herself.

"It hardly ever is." Nerdanel answered.

The nissi turned to see Finwë (trailed by his other two sons), enter the room and immediately went over to an exasperated Fëanáro. The elf's eyes certainly were blazing.

"You-"

"Who did-" Hic. "-this?!" Fëanáro interrupted Finwë, casting burning eyes towards his half-brothers. Immediately he sent a look of accusation towards Nolofinwë, "You did it! I-"

"Silence, Fëanáro!" Finwë unintentionally went severe with his eldest, but he never tolerated the eldest falsely accusing the younger princes. Fëanáro was smart enough to be silent and he recoiled. After that, Finwë started anew with what he was going to say, "…your cake had spices all over it. Intensely hot ones, I might add. How you managed to miss them, my very perceptive child, I may never know."

"Who-" Hic. "Did it though?" Fëanáro demanded again.

"Valar knows. But, your…hiccups, will last for quite a while. Judging by the amount of water…you have drunk…perhaps until the next mingling."

"The-" Fëanáro growled and sat up after the last hiccup, "-next mingling!? I cannot be seen jumping and gulping for the next-"

"I thought you would say that. Therefore, we will leave you to your family, so no one has to behold you like this." Finwë gave a small, sly smile, "In fact, you are confined here until it subsides."

Horror again flashed in Fëanáro intense gaze. Nolofinwë and Arafinwë were finding this very amusing and were enjoying every minute of it. Soon, everyone but Fëanáro and Nerdanel left the room. The (literally) hot-headed Noldo flopped back down on the mattress, and the lone nis finally let herself be amused. She grinned widely, and sat down in a nearby chair and began to hum to herself.

After a small amount of time, they heard a quiet knock, and Fëanáro reluctantly bade whoever it was to enter. It surprised both parents to see their four children. Baby Carnistir was snuggled easily on Macalaurë's shoulder. Maitimo simply stood at the doorway. Tyelcormo looked a bit guilty, which would be odd.

"They told us you would be here…" Maitimo said simply, humor glinting in his eyes, while also at the time shared a bit of guilt as well.

"What have you been up to?" their mother asked.

The elder brothers looked at Tyelcormo, who appeared to be a little bit under four by Atani standards. Ever since seeing who came knocking at the door, Fëanáro had remained silent, not willing himself to speak without being interrupted by the confounded hiccups. Still the sounds still came, although slightly muffled.

Tyelcormo gulped and padded over to his father, "W-we were playing, and…somehow we managed to find the kitchens. It all looked very nice, and the smells were wonderful. But, I know you like red…and everything was not red enough, like at home. So…I ended up helping a little bit without asking and…" The elfling looked afraid, "D-don't tell grandfather about it!"

Fëanáro listened to the tale, a smile growing bit by bit. Eventually he began to chuckle deeply, as the euphoria began to wash over him. The elfling was not sure how to make of this; even was oblivious to the happy looks everyone (save sleeping Carnistir) was having.

Fëanáro eventually sat up and lifted his third child up, "Ah, my clever boy…you never cease to amaze me." He looked at the three others by the door, "I am proud of all my sons." He looked to Nerdanel, "And I love all of you."

Everyone felt warm and happy, eventually they closed the distance and all embraced each other. Little Tyelcormo was the first to embrace atto, considering he was closer. The elfling also ignored the odd sounds atto was making, and the unnatural warmth that radiated off the elf.

* * *

 _Atani = men._

 _Nissi = women._

 _Atto = daddy._

 _Feanaro = Feanor_

 _Nolofinwe = Fingolfin_

 _Arafinwe = Finarfin_

 _Maitimo = Meadhros_

 _Macalaure = Maglor_

 _Carnistir = Caranthir_

 _Tyelcormo = Celegorm_


End file.
